The Bride Wore Black Leather

didn’t look like a good way to die. The faces were always the worst part, teeth showing clearly in wide-stretched mouths. As though they’d all died screaming. A cold, dangerous anger burned within me.
We don’t do sacrifices. We’re not that kind of Druid.
I wasn’t sure I believed that any more. If I ever had. I might not be able to help these people, but I could still avenge them. I caught Julien looking at me worriedly and realised I was scowling fiercely, my hands still clenched into fists. I made myself relax, a little.
    “Is there any chance these bodies are fakes?” I said roughly. “Maybe . . . seeded through the maze; atmosphere for the tourists?”
    “No,” said Julien. “I would have heard. I think these people died trying to get to the centre of the maze. Or trying to get out of it.”
    “Because they weren’t in the right spiritual frame of mind?” I said. My voice sounded ugly, even to me.
    “Perhaps. There is something at work in this maze, John. I can feel it. And not only whatever it is that’s still following us.” He stopped abruptly, so I had to stop with him. “I keep hearing noises, footsteps, and what might be breathing, but I haven’t even caught a glimpse . . . And after all these years of living in the Nightside, I am really hard to sneak up on.”
    “Same here,” I said. “It keeps moving in on us, then falling back. As though . . .”
    “As though it wants to get to us, but it can’t!” said Julien. “As though something is preventing it, holding it back!”
    “Any idea what?” I said. “I’d really like to know. I’d feel ever so much more comfortable.”
    Julien shook his head. “How far are we, from Green Henge?”
    “Almost there,” I said.
    “Is your gift telling you that? Is it telling you anything else about the maze?”
    I frowned, despite myself. “There’s a power here, inside the maze. Nowhere near the same level as Green Henge, but still . . . definitely a power. Set here long ago, for a purpose . . . To weed out the unworthy; isn’t that what Sister Dorethea said? But whatever it is, it feels vague to me, uncertain. I can’t seem to get a handle on it.”
    “Wonderful,” said Julian. “Marvellous. Terrific. I really must make a mental note to load myself down with any number of powerful weapons and devices the next time I agree to accompany you on a case.”
    “You came looking for me, remember?” I said.
    “So I did. I must be getting old.”
    We pressed on, and only half a dozen turnings later we were suddenly out of the hedgerow maze, or more properly, into the great opening at its centre. A huge open space, bigger even than the size of the maze had suggested. Someone was playing tricks with Space again. But what really took my breath away was the Standing Stones. Not one Circle, but many. Dozens and dozens of rows, of circles of menhirs, spreading out for as far as the eye could see. Great slabs of ancient Stone, twenty or thirty feet high, hundreds of prehistoric menhirs, and all of them covered in a thick layer of living greenery. Not the spiky grey-green vegetation of the hedge walls; this greenery was a brilliant emerald, bursting with life and health, radiating the wild verdant energy of Green Henge.
    Julien and I stood close together, feeling very small in the face of such a huge thing. A presence, as well as a power.
    “No wonder the Sisters call it a Garden,” I said finally. “But why did they allow the Stones to become so overgrown? Or was it always like this, from the beginning?”
    “Not that I ever heard,” said Julien. “Is it a Druid thing?”
    “Not that I ever heard,” I said.
    “This . . . wasn’t simply allowed to happen,” Julien said slowly. “This is why the Stones allowed themselves to be transported here. To become . . . Green Henge.”
    I looked back the way we’d come. The shadowy hedgerows were still and silent; and if anything in there was still watching us, it kept itself to itself. I shrugged quickly and strode forward into the Circles of Standing Stones. Julien moved along with me, staring openly about him like a tourist. I had more pride though the sheer presence of the Stones beat on the still air like a silent endless heartbeat, demanding respect. I gave each Stone plenty of room as I passed, looking carefully straight ahead. The full moon seemed to fill half the sky overhead, shining directly down on the Stones, bathing them in a shimmering blue-white glare.